


talking (just to breathe)

by angelblur



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Autism Spectrum, Bipolar Disorder, Eating Disorders, Eventual Smut, M/M, Nonverbal Learning Disorder, Personality Disorders, Psychosis, Sexual Abuse, selective mutism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:45:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelblur/pseuds/angelblur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“it’s not about getting thin, you know,” tyler mumbles, breath barely above a gentle hum as he grazes his free hand underneath the uniform shirt to grip at his too-visible ribs. josh wishes he could speak, could prod tyler with the thousands of questions tumbling through his already deafening mind; instead, he curls his knees up to his chest, tilting his head and meeting tyler’s gaze with a look in his light eyes that asks, <em>why do you puke?</em></p><p>tyler looks up, and, for a fleeting moment, his bloody lips seem upturned in a smile. “it’s about getting clean,” he sighs, and turns around to face the window before josh can even blink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the one with the scissors

**Author's Note:**

> hey Yo whaddup this gon be fifty million piles of sad. i kno i got other fics to finish but this is th only one im invested in rn ! yeehaw read th tags

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS GON BE SO SAD

josh’s first idea was to inform people that he didn’t belong here, but in every television show or movie he’s seen depicting psych wards, the person who says that is the craziest. that, and the fact that josh doesn’t talk. 

maybe his shtick will be the quiet kid. he already is that, really; he’s communicated in mostly shrugs and shaky hand gestures since the third grade, and he’s not exactly been what one would call _popular_. he’s usually too busy playing with the spinner ring on his index finger or humming peculiarly loudly to focus on making friends or interacting in social environments. his scholastic aid, as his therapist called her, tried her best to engage josh in after-school activities such as sports or the arts; after the second basketball practice where josh had wandered outside to stare at the clouds and the third time he locked himself in the bathroom during choir rehearsals, she decided to ease off a bit. 

he’d never considered himself crazy. special? sure, ‘cause that’s what all his peers whisper when he makes sure to step in every square tile on the lunchroom floor. weird? maybe, since that’s what his dad mutters everytime he walks in on josh snapping his drumsticks in half. crazy? no. 

not until he’d taken a pair of scissors and stabbed his best friend in the side. 

_i didn't mean to, i didn’t mean to, i swear i didn’t mean to_ —that’s what he tried to express in desperate facial expressions and grabby hands as mark screamed and sprinted into josh’s living room. he’d sat on his carpet, rocking back and forth as he clamped his hands over his ears, while his mother slammed onto a cell phone to dial 911 as his older brother struggled to stop the copious amounts of blood from oozing out of mark’s side. 

the last josh saw of him was his teary, frightened eyes as he was placed on a stretcher and wheeled into the ambulance.

frightened. that’s something josh’d never seen directed at himself before. he didn’t like it. 

he saw a lot of it as he was whisked away to doctor after doctor; tall, scary men in stark white coats that made josh tug at his curls in a nervous motion. they put flashlights in his ears and touched his chest with cold circles connected to earbuds and told his parents words like _psychotic_ and _personality disorders_ and, worst of all, _sent away_. 

josh didn’t want to be sent away. he wanted to stay with his old therapist, with his family who could still stand to look at him without flinching.

he didn’t get a say, because he was immediately sent to the city of cincinnati psychiatric hospital, and that’s where he sits now: wringing his hands together as he suffers the loss of his ring, biting his bottom lip raw as strange people in fancy suits try to get him to speak. 

“joshua,” the sharp-looking woman behind the dark desk repeats. josh thinks she looks like a mechanical pencil, with her sharp cheekbones and solid brow; he wants to tell her, but he remembers that _his compliments can be seen as insults to other people_. that’s what his old therapist, mr. wentz, told him. mr. wentz was very kind, with lots of inky tattoos he let josh touch and different colored hair each month and soft eyes josh found that he enjoyed staring at more than listening to mr. wentz’s words. that’s another thing he told josh: _people get uncomfortable if you stare too long without responding_. he also asked josh to call him pete, but josh never did. he never called him anything, actually, because he never spoke. figures.

back to pencil lady. her press-on nails tap against the wood, _click, click, click_ , and the offset of the ticking of the clock makes josh flap his hands next to his head. one glare from pencil lady makes him stop, however, and she continues to shuffle papers as josh’s legs vibrate against the blue rug underneath his chair’s legs. 

pencil lady is speaking again, but josh’s eyes stray from the thinness of her lips to the window in the center of the exiting door. patients, he assumes, are milling around the hallway in groups of twos or threes; the accidental orderliness makes a delighted noise sound from the back of his throat, and he’s so happy about his new find that he doesn’t mind when pencil lady makes another face. he just keeps on smiling, pointy incisors joyously pressing together. he loves numbers.

pencil lady’s saying other numbers now, numbers matched with letters than jingle like the keys in her hand. josh watches her stand with now-eased observation, since he now knows they’ll be traveling in a safe pattern; he dutifully follows her lead out the door, not realizing how wobbly his knees are. biting at his stubby thumbnail, he counts how many steps he takes as he follows her up a flight of stairs, eyes never leaving the backs of her shoes; they’re tan, about two-inch heels that chafe her ankle. he almost feels bad for her. 

“this is your room.” her penultimate sentence breaks through the steady white noise of his concsounding in the back of josh’s brain, and he flutters his indiscriminately long lashes up at her as she flicks the lock open. he wanders in after her like a ghost, and he fights giggles as he imagines himself floating a foot above the air, or two, or ten. when she turns back around, josh’s game of imaginary ends, but he still longs to be airborne enough to fly away from this place. “you will remain here today and awaken tomorrow for more evaluation.”

and that’s that. no _goodbye, josh_ or _yes, the thermostat has been checked seventeen times_ or even a simple _good luck_. he might need it, he thinks, as he watches a small droplet of blood bead at the tip of his finger. he doesn’t like it here, and he doesn’t want to have to fade into the stark white walls and padded floors of this ghostly space. 

the numbers can’t keep him safe for long.


	2. the one with the scissors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone else is staring, and he's sitting right next to josh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hustle hustle muscle muscle

everyone’s eyes are boring into his flesh. josh hates it, hates it so much his hands jiggle on his thigh as he glares at his feet; he’s drawn four small lines in sharpie on each side of his sneakers, and he counts them over and over in his head until he’s begun to mouth them. he doesn’t like the people watching him, doesn’t like the curious and accusatory whispers that cascade through the thick air like lazy butterflies. he can’t stop blinking. 

“josh?” a voice sounds over the noise, a voice obviously trained to sound comforting. he doesn’t look up, but he makes a quiet affirmative noise as his knees begin to knock. “are you going to introduce yourself?”

a minute shake of the head. picking at his nails, josh winces as his neck throbs from its awkward position and he’s forced to tilt his chin upwards. contrary to his thoughts, not many people are boring their judgemental eyes into his skin; the only person really peering is the group therapy’s leader, miss frangipane. her eyes seem probing as well as lifeless, and josh’s hand flaps harder as he steers his chin away.

someone else is staring, and he’s sitting right next to josh.

a fearful, small squeak erupts from the back of josh’s throat as his pupils roam over the soft face of the boy intently looking; the horror emerging from josh’s heart stops as he observes the strange kindness of the boy’s face. he’s got gentle, hazel eyes, and pouty lips upturned in a curious smile—gosh, josh likes his lips, so he reaches out and ghosts the tips of his fingers over the stuck out bottom. the boy’s crooked, chipped teeth show in a surprised smile as josh runs his fingernails over his mouth, temporarily forgetting that he’s definitely, for sure, totally not allowed to do this.

it suddenly dawns on him that the boy isn’t recoiling or shoving josh’s hands away, like his sister does when he touches her hair or mark used to when josh poked at his neck. no, this boy seems almost delighted at josh’s inquiring touch; in fact, he seems crestfallen as josh yanks his fingers away in fear and begins to tremble, waiting for the familiar strike of correction against his face or chest.

none come. instead, the boy swivels around so he’s fully facing josh and gives him another widespread beam. “you can keep touchin’,” he whispers softly, as to not alert the others of their private conversation, josh guesses. he’s not really sure. “i like it when people are touchy with me. nobody is, y’know, ‘cause i scare everyone so bad. i don’t wanna scare you, though. i’d never hurt you, ‘cause you’re really pretty. wait, does that scare you? if it does, i won’t say it anymore, swearsies. okay?”

josh blinks once. usually, when people talk so much in his face, he gets annoyed or freaked out; or, even worse, they want him to respond. the boy’z voice seems to calm josh down, however, stilling his vibrating hands and slowing his breathing. not only that, but he seems to have no such qualms about josh replying, as he launches back into his words before josh has time to process his thoughts. “you’re new,” he comments, and josh watches as the talker’s bright red socks slide down his tan ankles and his feet swing under his chair. “i’m tyler. i’ve been here for about a year, an’ nobody seems too interested in letting me out. which sucks, y’know, ‘cause i had a really nice basketball thing going at home. got scholarships and everything. i mean, i’d much rather pursue musical stuff, but my older brother thinks i suck and my mom really wants me to get actual money. what’s your name?”

josh’s so awash in this new information that he’s lost in his head for a moment trying to organize it all; tyler doesn’t seem to mind, simply biting at his thumbnail and looking at josh in interest. when josh finally peeks up, he shakily points to his mouth as his feet begin rapidly tapping on the tile floor. god, he hopes tyler doesn’t suddenly decide he hates josh’s mute guts and proceed to taunt him endlessly for it. everybody else seems to think that’s quite the passtime. 

instead, tyler’s smile grows twofold, dimples poking through his slightly blushy cheeks like miniature bulletholes. josh hesitantly grazes his thumbs over them, and tyler begins to babble. “you don’t talk?” he giggled, nuzzling his face against josh’s touch; this is something that’s never happened before, and josh’s almost at a loss as he rubs his quivering hands against tyler’s face. “s’cool. people tell me i talk too much, so maybe we can balance each other out. gosh, your hand is soft. and it kinda smells like lavender. is that some sorta lotion, or your natural musk—”

“tyler.” the steady, maternal voice of miss frangipane breaks through his avid rambling, and josh dares a tentative glance upwards as his movements still. “stay silent, don’t be rude to everyone else. and josh, hands to yourself.”

a fearful hum exploding in josh’s larynx cues his hand streaking back under his thighs, and he averts his gentle gaze away from tyler to stare at the dirt on the linoleum floor. he feels tyler’s eyes on his face, but he refuses to acknowledge him in fear of being reprimanded until his nose is a few centimeters away from josh’s splotchy cheek. “don’t stop touchin’ me,” he murmurs, suddenly a lot shyer than he was previously. “and don’t think i’m gonna stop talkin’ to you. i need to be anchored. miss frangipane doesn’t get it; she jus’ says i’m narcissistic or something. how can i be narcissistic if i hate myself? i—” 

a foot stomps, and josh curls in on himself as his hand smacks rapidly against his knee. “tyler,” miss frangipane’s now sharp tone sounds, and he ricochets back into place as josh shuts his eyes tightly. he doesn’t like her, or the new feeling blossoming in his chest whenever tyler’s hoarse, nonstop words filter into his ear, or how there are fourteen people seated here, including miss fragipane. fourteen’s one of the worst numbers, and he can only block it out by letting out a stream of incoherent hums. the stares are worse, now, but he doesn’t care. 

he suddenly falls silent, however, when someone’s hand curls around his waggling fingers and presses them to their mouth. 

he peeks up, breath coming in short gasps, to see tyler watching him with soft eyes. no fear, no mocking—just concern as josh allows his fingertips to brush against the chapped expanse of his mouth to calm himself down. the room around them seems to dull and blur as he and tyler maintain this peaceful state, and josh sees something deep and dark in tyler’s eyes; something approaching understanding, but laced with something more. something painful. 

josh begins to hum again, but it’s gentle and airy this time, making the corners of the lips underneath josh’s hand tilt upwards.


	3. the one where josh thinks he might be falling in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "where'd your head get off to?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thbj u si mych fr th commments

“you wanna smoke, sugar?”

blinking slowly, josh lets his tongue swipe over his canines in confused interest as the boy tyler claims to be his best friend dangles a pack of cigarettes under his nose. he’s never even seen nicotine in the flesh, let alone inhaled it, so he hesitates a moment before shyly shaking his head. the boy with said cigarettes shrugs a few times, legs never stopping their incessant bouncing as he lights the end of one of the sticks and grinding it against his lips. 

“brendon,” tyler lightly scolds, standing at josh’s side in an almost protective manner as they loiter around the smoking zone. a few other patients wander about, most inside the cafeteria for lunchtime. “don’t offer the dude drugs the second you meet him! i’ont even know if he’s old enough, even though he looks ‘bout my age. he’s got such a soft face, though, so he might jus’ be a teenager. don’t ask him, he won’t answer. and no—”

eloquently shutting tyler up by ramming his index finger into his mouth, brendon curls his knuckle a bit until he yanks it away and wipes it on his shirt. josh feels something curling around his heart to tug it down, and he thinks it might be jealousy. “yeah, yeah, no sex,” brendon giggles, leaning against the wall and taking in a smooth, solid drag that makes him appear professional. “not interested, anyways.”

as tyler snorts incredulously, josh begins to hum gently as he watches brendon’s feet. they cross over each other, switching positions every three seconds or so as he takes another drag and pretends to listen to tyler talk. he seems aloof, in another place in his brain even as he stands here. it takes a moment to register the sex comment, however, and the expanse of josh’s skin flushes a dark red. he’s kind of always doomed himself to never have sexual relations with anybody, due mostly to the fact of seemingly endless periods of certain malicious classmates whispering indescribable insults at him. he’d just uneasily smile at the perpetrators, tugging at his fingers as they’d continue to laugh. 

he snaps back into reality as a warm hand lays on his shoulder, and all apprehension towards the one called brendon tapers away as tyler’s heat goes straight to josh’s cheeks. “josh!” tyler squeaks, grinning wide as brendon eyes them both: tyler uncharacteristically enthusiastic, josh blushy and quiet. “we gotta get some food in you! s’only your second day and i’m already slackin’ at showing you around. guess i gotta protect you, huh? c’mon!”

and, as if the world decides now is the perfect time to cease spinning, tyler grips josh’s hand and gives him the biggest smile he’s ever witnessed. 

his feet carry him behind tyler’s speedy retreat from the brooding boy, but his mind seems to be somewhere else, not unlike brendon appeared; he feels lighter than air, like he’s sprouted angel wings and is floating through space. nobody’s ever touched him with such vigor, such lack of inhibition, such _trust_. people don’t tend to trust josh these days, what with his twitchy hands and recent acts with scissors. in fact, the two days before josh had been driven to the cincinnati hospital had been some of the worst of his life, as he was practically locked in his room and forbidden to leave. he spent forty-eight hours rocking back and forth wildly, slamming his palms against the walls and screeching so loud he probably gave ashley nightmares. 

that tiny, shadowed part burrowed deep in josh’s body told him that he wanted to. 

his whole life has been a series of rooms, he supposes: doctor’s offices with the same diplomas tacked on the lifeless walls, same living room where he wordlessly sang louder than his parent’s arguments, same classrooms where he doesn’t understand the material but never brings it up, never asks for help in fear of his peers knowing. he feels like they already know how stupid he is, just by looking at his wondering eyes. 

“josh?” blinking back into his consciousness, josh lets his glazed eyes clear until they’re resting on tyler’s curious face. “joshie, where’d your head get off to? don’t leave me like that, i get scared! everybody leaves, y'know. everybody.”

a change falls over the cafeteria, josh notices; the lunchline tyler had led him too seems to swim as tyler’s widespread mouth fades and wilts into an empty, hollow line. his pupils fade into the hazel abyss of his irises until he seems lifeless, held up by string tied to his spine. josh’s heart, moments before beating with a newfound infatuation with skin-to-skin contact, stops dead in his ribcage as he panickedly places his hands over tyler’s face. he doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch as josh presses his thumbs against his ghostly eyelids and faerie ears and those perfect, perfect lips. 

a high-pitched, muffled scream leaves josh’s mouth as he staggers back, corners of his vision fading in and out as he begins to flap his hands wildly. the tyler staring at him is bad, bad, bad; all fours and no threes, the color of broken ankles and melted ice, and all the oxygen in josh’s lungs seems to implode as he lets out another broken shriek and is suddenly enveloped in the arms of hospital workers. he watches tyler as he’s led away by more nurses, but those dead, unfeeling eyes find their way back into josh’s gaze quickly. 

without warning, tyler bursts into heartwrenching sobs, and josh is forced to watch as he’s dragged away in his near-manic state. 

the walls collapse in on themselves, josh’s vocal chords continuing to betray him, and he’s yanked back into the hallway, past the hyperactive, oblique man from before. he grins, and the second grip of terror claws at josh’s stomach as brendon burns out his cigarette against the wall. “the crying always seems the scariest, doesn’t it?” he muses almost happily, feet still tapping as his fists clench over and over. “it’s even worse when he doesn’t eat.”

with that, josh is placed into his cold, awful room, and he screams as loud as he can until his throat gives out.


	4. the one where tyler is alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _don't make me hurt him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw ableist language

quiet. quiet. why is it always so quiet in containment?

_nobody to talk to, stupid._

i’m not stupid, not stupid, notstupidnotstupidnotstupid.

_stupid boy falls in love with another stupid boy. how fucking ~~sad~~ cliche._

**he’s not stupid, he’s smart and beautiful and he touched my lips with** _angel skin._

_you know all the angels in here have died, fallen. stupid boy is just ~~scared~~ fooling you._

never. never ever ever ever. **he makes me want to _trust._**

_dangerous._

i know.

_do you?_

he listened to me.

_he thinks you’re ~~beautiful~~ crazy._

brendon told me he stabbed someone. 

_slut boy isn’t reliable._

shut up. i like brendon.

_stupid boy ~~listened to the voices~~ did it out of impulse. you did it out of delight._

stop. i’m hungry.

 _i bet you are. tell me, how did they **taste** , tyler?_

**leave me alone.**

_you want to do it again._

**_no no no._**

_answer me. how did she fucking **taste**? how did your sister’s insides **TASTE?**_

_I DIDN'T MEAN TO._

_stupid boy will never ~~abandon~~ save you from what you’ve done._

_**you made me do it.**_

_i **am** you._

leave me alone.

_huh. the psycho and the retard. what a fucking ~~tragedy~~ comedy._

don’t make me hurt him.

_murderer._

please.


	5. the one with the talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> how could he not have noticed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi hi

josh has never liked skeletons. 

back in columbus, around halloween, he’d clutched abby’s shirts and stare at the ground as they passed the ghoulish decorations hanging from their neighbor’s trees. abigail’s the only sibling who isn’t annoyed with or scared of josh, so she’s gentle as she pries his fingers away from her hemline and laces their fingers together. 

“what’s wrong?” she asked casually, a small, comforting smile on her face; that’s what josh’s always liked about her, the fact that she doesn’t look down on him or patronize him with her every breath. she genuinely cares about the fright in his eyes, and that’s the reason she’s the only one he really attempts to communicate with. 

a stubby finger pointing to the branches, he swallowed thickly as they stop in the middle of the sidewalk. abby’s eyes grazed over the styrofoam decorations with slight apprehension, glancing down at josh’s terrified expression. “you don’t like the skeletons, jj?” she questioned, humming with comprehension as josh nodded rapidly. “aw, they’re nothing to be scared of. they’re inside all of us, see?”

with that, she gently took josh’s arm and glided her fingertips over his skin; he erupted in giggles as she tickles him, wriggling away as best as he could as abby clutched his wrist, his elbow, his shoulder. “that’s your skeleton,” she laughed, grinning wider as josh shrieked. “you’re spookier than those paper mache toys could ever be.”

“spooky jim!” josh squealed, the hoarseness of a never-used voice floating through the crisp autumn air as his hands flap in excitement. “m’spooky jim!”

sprinting to catch up, abby nabbed josh’s hand and runs with him down the road. “the spookiest!” she repeated, face glowing every time josh crowed his newfound identity. “spookiest jim in the world!”

when josh sees tyler for the first time in four days, he finds his past fear of skeletons to creep back up. he’s never seen someone so achingly, wantonly skinny. 

he can’t stop himself as he races across the lunch hall; four days of panicked loneliness, of trying to smoke with brendon without puking, of slamming his head into the wall and crying about nothing, all coming to a close with a boy that’s hardly there. screeching to a halt, josh stays characteristically silent as tyler looks up from his shoes, and waits for the frenzied quietness that he supplied last week. 

“josh!” tyler grins wide, and he’s instantly taking josh’s cold arms and pressing them to his warm face. “i missed you, i missed you, i missed you! my head gets so loud without someone to talk to, it starts talking to me! i’m crazy, so it's whatever. how are you! what’d i miss? wow, you’re so beautiful. you smell like smoke, have you been smoking? how old are you? should you be doing drugs? nicotine's a drug, right?”

the tight bundle of nerves and fear suddenly loosens in josh’s chest, and he can’t help himself as a drooly, happy squeak leaves his mouth as he latches around tyler. the second he realizes what he’s done, he instantly goes to step back and wipe off his mouth. he’s stopped, however, by a pair of lanky, comforting arms; he’s pressed tightly against tyler’s chest, and he finds himself melting into his frame as his fingers clench and unclench the fabric of his shirt.

subconsciously, josh’s hands migrate from tyler’s back to the front of his torso; his thumbs press to the frail bones protruding from underneath tyler’s clothes, a sad noise fluttering from his throat as he internally curses himself. how could he not have noticed? he’s seen tyler eat with his own two eyes, but he knows there's other ways of starving yourself. tyler’s slimmer than pencil lady’s nose, limbs made of hollow bird bones.

“s’nothing,” tyler softly murmurs, mumbling another bout of sentences about anything other than his fragility; josh tunes out accidentally, instead littering absent kisses over tyler’s chest. kisses make things better, right? like on tv, when the kid with the brightly colored shirts would bust her knee and stop crying the moment her mother would kiss the wound, or in the secret shows josh’s mom kept hidden where the bruises on people’s necks didn’t seem to hurt as bad when swollen mouths latched onto them. 

tyler’s breathing has quieted, but his hands shakily grip josh’s curls in some staggered attempt at affection, so josh doesn’t stop kissing. he wants the flesh that’s supposed to be there, wants to plaster it on tyler’s body to create the phantom curves that might’ve been there once. “we should move,” tyler whispers, breaking the sullen silence, and its then josh realizes they’re holding up the line. cinching josh’s hand in his, tyler continues to spew nonsense as he leads him away, across the cafeteria to a secluded corner; it’s next to a large, expanded window, but the dreary rain outside does nothing to help the atmosphere. 

sitting across tyler on the hard material, josh can’t waver his gaze from tyler’s lanky body; he knows it’s impolite to stare, but his legs can’t stop bouncing anxiously the longer he looks. tyler notices, gaunt fingers still clutching josh’s sweaty, shaky hand. their eyes meet, and the constant white noise in josh’s head dulls. 

“it’s not about getting thin, you know,” tyler mumbles, breath barely above a gentle hum as he grazes his free hand underneath the uniform shirt to grip at his too-visible ribs. josh wishes he could speak, could prod tyler with the thousands of questions tumbling through his already deafening mind; instead, he curls his knees up to his chest, tilting his head and meeting tyler’s gaze with a look in his light eyes that asks, _why do you puke?_

tyler looks up, and, for a fleeting moment, his bloody lips seem upturned in a smile. “it’s about getting clean,” he sighs, and turns around to face the window before josh can even blink. he doesn’t know where tyler’s words have gone, why they disappear consistently along with his joyous, sometimes manic moods. all he knows now is concern, the ever-present hole in his stomach that seems to _care_ for tyler, to push past the obliviousness and strangeness of josh’s head to seek out tyler’s. he wants to make him happy all the time, and not the artificial happy where he babbles and digresses. he needs to know he’s already clean.

with that scary thought, josh fearfully takes tyler’s hand tighter in his fingers; he presses his palm to his lips, and, with an aching, hollow whisper of a voice, he breathes into his skin, “eat.”

tyler’s body freezes, and everything josh’s ever known, every pattern, every routine, every system and coping mechanism he’s ever laid out crumbles and snaps under that one word. the hazel, sunken eyes burrowed in tyler’s tired face light up like millions of matches have been sparked inside his skull, and something warm and soft fills the scary atmosphere around them, something neither have felt in a long time. 

understanding. 

“okay,” tyler murmurs back, and josh bursts into unforgivingly loud sobs. he doesn’t try to shut himself up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ps : in no way am i suggesting tylers eating disorder is "cured."


	6. the one with the -.-. --- -.. .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "inpatient. why?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ths is lik. th las happy chptr

_the first bite is always the hardest_ , tyler tells him. 

they’re curled up in the corner of the lunch hall, pinkies loosely intertwined as tyler twists the slightly unclean spoon he’d been given in his calloused palms. josh watches in genuine interest, ankles bouncing against one another as tyler shakily raises the food to his mouth. it’s a small bite, almost miniscule, really; but the second it touches tyler’s tongue, josh coos happily. 

“y’like that, joshie?” ty grins, swallowing obediently as josh runs his thumbs over tyler’s mouth and nods. “even that tiny piece makes my stomach hurt, but i’m doin’ it for you. i’m eating for my boy, that’s right, my mute pretty boy, huh? you look cute with your curls overgrown like that. what, you want me to keep eating? i am, i am. don’t give me th’ pouty eyes, buddy. don’t you dare.”

swallowing a hoarse giggle, josh shoves a forkful of his own food into his mouth to set an example; tyler follows, a slightly larger portion being placed onto his tongue. fingernails running over his calf, josh rocks softly as tyler shifts in discomfort, stomach obviously too small to be used to regular consumption. all josh does is flatly lay his palm over tyler’s tummy, giving him a gentle smile. 

“enough,” he murmurs, and tyler’s small, shy grin expands into a beam. 

“anything you say, josh,” he hums, standing up and waiting patiently as josh finishes rocking before he rises with him. “i swear you’re a siren, j, ‘cause nobody’s voice is that beautiful. you could lure me into your gapin’ maw or somthin’, and i’d do it willingly, y’know? it’s good, it’s real good.”

josh’s insides feel funny, but he knows it’s not from the food; he keeps a pleasant blush on his face as tyler’s softly takes his hand again, weaving them through the clumps of people to lead josh to the outside area. it’s not too huge, just a simple stretch of grass with a few trees for shade, but josh still swoons at the early fall air. almost halloween, he figures. the concept of spooky jim makes him bounce excitedly. 

“c’mere,” tyler laughs, his grip on josh’s fingers tightening as he sprints with him and finally halts in the corner of the grass. they’re pressed against the metal, torn-up fence, tyler carefully tugging josh down to sit next to him. they’re smushed together, probably closer than they need to be. josh isn’t bothered; his hands flap in tyler’s hold, and tyler traces his wiggling knuckles with his thumbs. “this is my safe place. when i get scared, i jus’ cover my eyes an’ pretend if i can’t see ‘em, they can’t see me. object permanence. i had a very traumatized childhood.”

nodding in understanding, josh lets his vibrating leg tangle with tyler’s as he presses closer to his side. he usually hate physical touch, but he can’t get enough from tyler; he’s grasping both his hands, now, gnawing at his bottom lip as tyler rests his chin atop his head.

“why?” josh suddenly questions, soft and hesitant as a lazy finger glides down tyler’s arm to his wrists. “inpatient. this?”

tyler blinks, making the connection to josh’s observance and the haunting reddish-purple on his underarms. “i’m a bad person, joshie,” he mumbles, eyes squinting shut as he tries to organize the thoughts streaming from his throat. “i’ve done bad things, evil, unpure, awful things. i hafta punish myself, y’know, hafta atone for my sins. i scratch and scratch and scratch until i can’t feel my veins, and i suffer and suffer and suffer so i can apologize to th’ ones i’ve hurt, and i starve and starve and starve ‘cause—”

he falls silent. josh doesn’t question, just struggles to comprehend the patterns of three and the extra stutters and how in the world tyler could equate badness with himself. he recalls his initial question, though, why tyler’s here in the first place; _scratch_ and _suffer_ and _starve_. josh will remember those. 

for now, he sees tyler’s eyes still closed, hands trembling in josh’s now still palms. humming and tilting his chin so tyler notices, he pulls back a ways so tyler has his full view on his body. josh forms a pair of scissors with his hands, snipping at the air before suddenly plunging his nails against tyler’s side. he gasps, but doesn’t flinch as josh twists his wrists around before pulling back, offering a sheepish grin. “reason,” he mutters, and tyler’s confused features turn understanding. 

he bursts into giggles. he curls up in josh’s lap and sobs with laughter as josh’s jaw flexes, once and twice and once and twice. “funny?” he chirps, losing his voice already; tyler sits up quickly, however, and those irresistible lips leave a wet kiss on josh’s cheek. 

“no. s’cute,” he clarifies, and josh promptly buries his face in his hands as tyler continues to cackle happily. 

when the small bell from inside the building chimes, josh instantly lets out a little whimper and clings to tyler’s shirt. the end of lunch hour means medicine, and he hates it with every piece of his fragile being; it tastes gross, it makes his head foggy, everything's dull and pale and bad, like it always it. 

“i know y’don’t like it, joshie,” tyler sighs, bouncing josh ever so slightly on his thigh. “i hate it, too. they’re always forcin’ you to, huh? but thinka it this way: if you get through it an’ swallow it an’ give a lil thanks, you’ll be done! i wanna teachya morse code, so we can talk through th’ walls. i’ve got a lovenote or two prepared. would’ja like that?”

he would. josh dun would like nothing more than for tyler joseph to rap out a love letter through the cement walls of this institution, to fall asleep listening to patterns and systems tyler makes with the dots and dashes, to solidify the idea of maybe, perhaps, somehow, love is possible for josh. love is possible with tyler. 

but he can’t say those things. even if he was socially apt enough to regularly talk, he couldn’t articulate that to tyler or even to himself. those aren’t things you can say aloud. you hide those, josh’s learned, keep them tucked away like you would a scissor in your best friend’s side. 

instead, josh peeks up at tyler behind those brunette curls the taller had proclaimed his love for and smiles; gappy front teeth glimmer in the midday air, flushed cheeks dusted with pink, twitching eyebrows framing his loving face, and tyler knows. no morse code needed. 

josh may tuck the pills he’s given under his tongue before spitting them in the sink, and tyler might pretend he doesn’t see it as he pukes his up afterwards. they can fake it. they always have. 

“.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..-,” tyler taps that night, and josh coils into a warm, semi-content ball on his thin mattress. 

“.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- / - --- ---,” he knocks back, and he means it. 

oh, god, how he means it.


	7. the one with the goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “home,” he murmurs, pointing at tyler’s chest. “visit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its back

visiting times are starting to become josh’s favorite day of the months. 

abby always comes. even against their parent’s wishes, even if she has classes or a date that night or should be at a party—she always comes. “my baby brother comes before all that!” she giggles, always adding a quick “sarcasm, jj.” before josh can signal that he’s nearly ten years older than her. 

she starts bringing him gifts, too. a sweater for the colder months, then chocolates she instructs him to hide from the staff, then, at josh’s shy request, little presents for tyler, too. he doesn’t seem to have any visitors, nor show any interest in meeting josh’s sister, so josh always brings him the tiny gifts with a smile. “abby,” he prefaces, and tyler will hide a delighted grin as he peers at the shirt or silverware or whatever item he’s been presented. 

“your sister is sweet,” he hums, storing the presents in his room before meeting josh again. “my sister wouldn’t dream of buyin’ me things. she’s off at boarding school, y’know, so s’not like she could anyways. but she ‘ont like me like abigail loves you. tha’s okay! i got a joshie t’love me.” 

it’s become a regular event: josh meets with his sister, he sneaks gifts to ty, and they loiter around the now empty main room to talk. well, tyler talks; josh plays with tyler’s fingers and mouth and hair as he listens along. his mind could be racing, mumbling to him at a million miles an hour; and yet, he’ll be completely focused in on tyler’s words. 

his favorite is when tyler sings. his lanky shoulders and bony arms will be swaddled in one of abby’s sweatshirts, and his soft voice will carry throughout the windy yard and into josh’s heart. it’s getting much colder, now, so josh’ll burrow himself into tyler’s chest and nibble at his collar as ty hums and sings sweet chords until they’re both nearly half-asleep. their days are blurs of antipsychotics and falling in love, josh thinks. 

except, one day, he’s called into the main office. 

wringing his fingers together, josh watches his legs bounce in nerves as someone who isn’t pencil lady watches him with a weird glint in her eyes. her blonde hair is tied in a bun at the nape of her neck, and teeth keep showing to bite her bottom lip. josh’d almost say she was pretty, if she wasn’t absolutely unreadable. as everyone is. 

“good morning, josh.” her words aren’t sharp like the other’s, nor is her tone. she radiates some sort of kindness, a type josh has found in no one but tyler and his sister as of late. “i don’t want you to worry, you’re not in any trouble. would you like a tangle to play with?”

josh blinks in utter confusion as she reaches under her desk and produces a toy that can only be described as heaven to josh’s fidgeting fingers. he shakily accepts it, staring at it in awe as it twists with his trembling hands. he hasn’t been reprimanded for it yet, so he continues to stim with it as he peers up at the woman again. she smiles, and josh never wants to leave.

“my name is jenna,” she speaks softly. “i’m one of the owners of this building. i know you spoke with another lady last time, but i’m more of a bearer of good news than her.”

cocking his head to the side, josh absently nibbles at the toy. realizing what he’s doing, he immediately yanks it out of his mouth, but jenna shakes her head with a tiny grin. “it’s yours,” she permits, smiling wider as josh begins to beam. “i have plenty, honey. look.”

she holds up her hand to reveal a thick silver band on her ring finger, and she spins the indented metal around to demonstrate. josh watches it in awe as the toy returns in between his teeth, and jenna clasps her hands together. “i’ve spoken with the doctors who’ve been running those tests on you,” she begins, making sure to enunciate and still speak quietly. “they believe the episode you experienced was a manic one, and that you haven’t displayed anymore violent tendencies since you’ve been medicated.”

josh slowly stops fidgeting as jenna’s hands open on the desktop. “that means you can go home soon,” she finishes, waiting for josh’s smile to return hers. 

it doesn’t. his face flushes as he winds the toy around his wrists, biting his bottom lip. “...tyler?” he strains, voice still barely audible and very hoarse. 

jenna’s bottom lip goes back to being bitten. “tyler joseph?” she repeats, and her thumb starts to twist at the ring. “honey, tyler’s been here for a very long time. what he did was more violent than what you did, and he still shows many signs of being mentally unstable and dangerous. he can’t go home for a very long time.”

a sad noise leaves josh’s lips, and if any slight happiness was there at the prospect of home, it left. “t-tyler,” he says as firmly as possible, although his hands quiver even harder. 

sighing, jenna wriggles her ring until it pops on and off, on and off, on and off. “i know you two have a special bond,” she says apologetically. “i’m sorry, josh. he isn’t allowed to leave, even if i wanted him to.”

josh either can’t or refuses to process the information. his ankles kick the legs of his chair as he suddenly stands, face crumpling as he nervously backs against the door. jenna watches in sympathy as josh holds the tangle with one shuddering hand and creaks the knob with the other, slipping through the crack and walking off as fast as possible. 

tyler’s in the commons room. he’s watching tv with brendon and a few girls josh barely recognizes; the second tyler sees josh, however, nothing else matters. he scoops him into his lap, kissing the top of his head and grasping his hands. “how’d it go? what’d they say?” he hums, face buried in josh’s curls. “didja get in trouble? aw, ‘course y’didn’t, you’re an angel. c’mon, c’mon, tell me whateva’ y’can.”

josh stays silent, as usual, but tyler can feel his muscles stiffen under his hold. he loosens, keeping josh’s distraught face in his sight as he waits patiently for him to explain. in answer, josh shyly leads them both away from the people and out into an empty hallway. looking up at ty, josh feels his tummy twist in a sad, sad way. 

“home,” he mumbles.

tyler smiles. “you’re my home, too, josh,” he croons, nuzzling josh’s face. but josh shakes his head rapidly, and tyler can finally see he’s hiding tears. “no, no, sweetheart, why’re’ya cryin? did something happen? did someone hurt you? i’ll kill them, you know i will, who did it?”

but josh only lets out a weak sob, face resting in tyler’s chest. tyler bites his bottom lip bloody to keep from talking, instead rubbing josh’s back and letting him adjust to the situation before he speaks. still nuzzled in his shirt, josh sucks in a damp breath. “going home,” he whispers, voice cracking. “sending me home.”

the heart josh’s rested his cheek against feels like it’s stopping. tyler’s hands start to flap, face contorted in confusion and hurt as he suddenly grasps josh’s shoulders. “y’can’t leave,” he sniffles, features growing panicked. “y’can’t. y’gotta stay with me, josh, we’re makin’ each other better, remember? m’gainin’ weight, see? look, you’re makin’ me better, jj. please don’t go.”

josh’s hysterical now, winding his arms around tyler’s waist and hiding in his hold. “don’t wanna, don’t wanna, don’t wanna,” he chokes, and the feeling of tyler’s body wracking with sobs breaks him even further. 

it doesn’t seem like the universe listens to what josh wants. in no longer than two days, he’s sitting in the main office, a small bag filled with his clothes and toiletries sitting in between his thighs. he’s scared, twisting the tangle in his fingers so roughly, it might snap. tyler wasn’t allowed to wait with him, but josh can see him in the commons, sitting on a table and smiling at him through the main window. josh smiles back, showing him heart and peace symbols with his hands. 

he’s stopped by the ringing sound of the bell at the door. apprehensively covering his ears, josh peeks up to see his mother, father, and abby walking in. his fears are slightly alleviated as abby hugs him tight, swinging his bag over her shoulder and ruffling his hair, “hey, spook. how’s loverboy?”

josh can’t answer, or even try to, before his dad is in his face. he stills, shrinking in on himself as he hears his mom discussing medications and “possible psychotic breaks” with the receptionist. it’s all so overwhelming, but watching tyler keeping an eye on him through the glass seems to help. 

abby notices; she always does. as his parents approach the door, she swiftly takes josh’s hand. “josh has to say bye to someone!” she calls, quickly leading josh to the commons door. “be right there!”

josh can’t help but giggle as tyler sprints over his lanky legs to embrace josh. he kisses all over his face, hugging josh tight as he repeats, “safe, safe, safe, safe, safe.”

when they pull back, tyler’s face flushes as abby grins up at him. “the famous tyler,” she greets, and josh turns a pleasant shade of red as she continues, “i’ve heard so much about you, trust me.”

for once, tyler’s speechless. he stammers quietly as josh kisses each of his fingertips, standing tall so he can kiss him on the mouth. “home,” he murmurs, pointing at tyler’s chest. “visit.”

tyler can only nod. “i love you,” he breathes, and josh’s face lights up as he kisses him again, and again, and again. 

“love you,” he repeats back, and, all too soon, he’s being led to his car in the parking lot. 

jordan’s playing his phone in the backseat, and only hazards josh a wave before looking back down. josh sits on the left, like he always does, and tries to tune out his parents quiet yet nasty words about his “homecoming” as the wind blows his hair back and behind his shoulders. 

he knows he’s not going home. he just left it.


	8. the one with the secrets told

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> josh speaks with writing, tyler processes by talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sexual assault mention

the adjustment is hard. 

josh’s new pills are pink and yellow, and if he doesn’t put them under his tongue, they taste like gasoline and clog up his throat. he takes them in the mornings, noons, and nights: once with his oatmeal, once with his milk, and once with his mashed potatoes. his mom’s always tried to send him to school with new foods, or even encourage him to buy something different, but josh eats close to the same things everyday. 

“he’s adjusting poorly,” he’d heard her on the phone one night. “i can cut him some slack.”

it looks like nobody else wants to. during class, he’s avoided like the plague. during break or lunch, he’s whispered and nudged at like some science experiment. walking home from school, he has to consciously make sure he’s going somewhere populated, in broad daylight. he doesn’t want to know what they’d do to him if they found him alone. 

one of the roughest parts of coming home is mark. they don’t have any classes together, not even lunch, but they always made it a habit to go to one another’s houses after school. josh’d waited in front of the gym building for three hours before abby came to pick him up and let it dawn on him that maybe mark hadn’t forgotten. 

he just didn’t want to. 

josh copes. he always has. he sits out in the field when class isn’t in session, making sure to be near some of the kids who don’t care about him one way or another. he writes, now, something recommended to him by his new therapist, dr. way. so many new things have come about from this disturbance in josh’s life, but dr. way might be the only good one. they don’t make josh talk, but they let him fidget with the tangle he’d gotten from the hospital whenever he wanted. he’d had to hide it from his parents so they wouldn’t throw it out. 

the best part of josh’s days are writing to tyler. he bought a pink stationery set from some fundraiser for the arts department, and he looks forwards to when he gets to go home and send letters to his boy. all of his writings are slightly sloppy and a little hard to follow, but josh knows tyler won’t care. he draws messy pictures of them and flowers and hearts on the back, and sometimes tapes things like tickets to movies or pressed plants into them. 

tyler doesn’t write back as often as josh, but he doesn’t mind. every two weeks, abby drives josh up to the hospital and he’ll spend hours with tyler; they snuggle in the plastic chairs of the visiting room, josh showing ty whatever he can about his life while tyler just talks and talks and talks. josh thinks he understands this, somewhat; josh speaks with writing, tyler processes with talking. 

one thing josh doesn’t write about is mark. everything’s changed with them; mark walks with a weird twist to his waist and glares at josh like he’s the worst person on planet earth. he has some sort of posse now, a group of jock kids who almost seem like bodyguards. josh knows that’s silly, but it’s still unnerving; he and mark bonded over being loners, but now he supposes that's another change he’s gonna have to learn about. 

another, one he hadn’t seen coming for the life of him, was being told what tyler had done to get him rehabilitated.

it’s always been just another secret, and josh gets those. secrets are things you keep locked up tight inside you, only unraveling to the people you trust most in the world who just have to know. tyler trusts josh, but he doesn’t have to know, and he understands. his biweekly meetings with dr. way, although usually relaxing and friendly, start to shape around this secret josh’s sure tyler wouldn’t want him to be aware of. honestly, he’s not even sure how dr. way (who insists on josh calling them gerard, at least in his head) would have any idea of the secret in tyler’s heart.

“would you be alright with talking about tyler, josh?” dr. way—gerard—asks gently, a way all topics are broached during their sessions. josh sits in his soft chair, arms frayed at his pickings, legs crossed and ankles wiggling under him. he thinks for a moment about if it really is okay to talk about him, as gerard’s encouraged, before he nods. 

gerard smiles. “thank you,” they hum. the little twitches of their mouth and the rocking of their body easing josh into his own. “i’d like for us to talk about why you two were hospitalized. can you remind me why you were, first?”

one of the core things josh and gerard have worked on is responsibility. gerard never blames him for hurting people or himself, or doing things others find scary or strange. he only has to own up to them, to admit he did them and to know why, for gerard to be pleased. to establish that responsibility this time, josh makes scissors with his hands, as he did so long ago, creating a stabbing motion as he chokes, “i hurt mark.”

his speech therapy has been improving how he communicates, but it’s still a battle he fights with every word. 

gerard smiles encouragingly, fingers locked around themselves as they tap on their desk. “that’s right. thank you for telling me,” they add, head cocked and lips pursed. josh can read gerard slightly better than others, since they’re together more often than anyone else josh knows, so josh can guess these actions are what gerard does before they ask a big question, one they haven’t asked before. “do you know why tyler was hospitalized?”

processing the question, josh shakes his head in an affirmative no. knowing gerard likes him to speak, or at least to try to, every time they have a question, josh swallows as he mumbles, “didn’t talk about it.”

“tyler talked about a lot, didn’t he?” gerard continues, eyebrows raised as josh nods again. “do you know why he wouldn’t talk about that?”

shaking his head once more, josh provides a simple, “didn’t ask.” he has no idea where this is going. 

humming softly, gerard launches into the discussion josh’s been waiting on. “i’m going to tell you, only because i’ve talked to tyler’s main therapist and we both agree you should know.” they pause, letting josh consume the sentences properly. “tyler believes that he killed and ate his sister, but he did not. part of his psychosis includes heavy delusions, so that’s his brain’s best bet at blocking out the truth—making himself a monster. would you like me to continue?”

as the words reach josh’s head, he begins to feel a creeping anxiety crawl up his throat. why would tyler think that if it weren’t true? had he done something worse, worse than _eating_ somebody? josh can’t judge, and he knows he could never hate tyler, but, even so, he nods to gerard’s inquiry. what taints tyler’s soul so terribly, something so ugly is better than the real thing? 

gerard gathers their thoughts quickly. “tyler’s sister sexually molested him. we spoke about molestation, yes?” josh nods, numb and weak. “can you remind me what it means?”

josh’s voice is raw as he whispers, “rape.”

affirming this, gerard clears his throat. “it happened for many years, and, on one occasion, tyler couldn’t handle it. he struck out and hurt his sister very badly, breaking her neck and nearly killing her. when his mother apprehended him, he began to fight back, tearing at her throat and hands with his teeth. he swallowed some of her and madeline's flesh before he was stopped by police.”

“stop,” josh cries out, and gerard does. “why tell?” he croaks, confusion all he knows. 

gerard sighs, something sad and worn. “tyler asked me to,” he explains. “well, he asked his therapist to tell me, so i could relay it you. tyler speaks about a lot of things, but he was too frightened to tell you that himself. he still thinks he ate his sister, consciously; but in his subconscious, the back part of our brains, he still knows, and he wanted to share that with you.”

josh weeps bitterly the rest of the session, snotty and red as he refuses any offering of gerard’s comfort. everything is just as ugly as he always knew it was, every corner of this earth made of rusted metal and rabid dogs. tyler is the most beautiful thing in this world, and he’s been torn apart by the ones he loves most, including himself. 

visiting day doesn’t matter anymore. josh can understand that, too. he takes the bus to the hospital that night.


	9. the one with the redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they wait until the police come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nsfw

“i’m sorry, sir, but none of the patients can be seen at this time.”

josh is as gentle as they come, a pacifist in the sweetest sense of the word, but he’s very close to clocking this woman in the face. since this isn’t a visiting day nor a scheduled appointment, the staff of nurses wandering the waiting room and main hall don’t recognize him as a past patient, much to his advantage. struggling to sound as much as a normal person as possible, josh strains to say, “it’s important. tyler joseph?”

raising an eyebrow, the receptionist clicks through files on her desktop before selecting one and eyeing him warily. “josh dun?” she asks, and, praying she doesn’t delve deeper into his identity, he nods. 

only a moment passes before she rolls her eyes, closing the window with such boredom she misses josh’s sag of relief. “you see him a lot, i take it?” she questions, picking at her nail and _hmph_ ing when josh nods again. “i appreciate the dedication. not a lot of people give a shit around here. i’ll give you a few minutes, alright? feel lucky.”

josh beams in response, cheeks flush with worry as the secretary stands and taps something down on a phone receiver. she talks for a minute or two before dropping the call, sitting back and gesturing to the hard, plastic chairs behind josh. he sits, feet bouncing and fingers tugging at themselves restlessly. 

when tyler appears in the doorway, all's right with the world again. his hair is shaggier than it was last week, a few dark locks fluttering into his wide eyes as they search the room for familiarity, briefly unnoticing of josh. he’s definitely gained weight, although someone who didn’t know tyler probably wouldn’t guess so; he’s still lanky and gangly, but the flesh of his stomach is rounder and the thighs encased in medical attire strain ever so slightly against the material. his cheeks are flushed with life and those big eyes, although guarded, are sparkling even so. 

they land on josh, and tyler leaps from the orderly escorting him and hugs josh close. josh himself is looking much better than when he left: his hair, which he’d temporarily dyed pink on impulse after coming home, has faded back into it’s curly brunette, framing his pudgy face elegantly. his lips are soft, teeth nibbling at them as if to hide a grin as his gentle hands lace around the small of tyler’s back and tug his frame close to his own. he still stands much shorter than tyler, so he has to lean on his tiptoes to press shy kisses to the edge of tyler’s scruffy jaw. both of their past physical injuries are healed, or well on their way. 

their mental set are getting there. 

remembering where josh is in space and time, he whispers quickly into tyler’s ear, “leaving. play along?” he knows tyler is smart, but he also knows he isn’t the most obvious of people when planning an escape. he only prays tyler catches on.

he needn’t have fretted. tyler gasps, pulling back and sporting very realistic crocodile tears. his bottom lip, fat and smuggling a smile, pokes downwards as he clutches josh’s shoulder. “aunt marie?” he sniffles, knees buckling with his dramatic sadness. josh sniffles a giggle. “i thought she wus doing better, j.”

josh shakes his head, falling into a solemn look himself. he looks down, focusing on tyler’s shoes so he doesn’t burst into laughter. “bad,” he can only mutter, making sure his profile is turned so the receptionist can see their emotions. 

she seems to, as her cold and detached demeanor from before cracks a little as she leans over the counter. “joseph?” she asks, getting tyler to look over with wet eyes. “is everything okay?”

“m-my...m’aunt marie,” tyler chokes, a fist coming up to press against his mouth. “her cancer—oh, it’s gotten s’much worse, lynn. stage four, now, and just when she wus getting better! she’s a fighter, but cancer s’a cruel mistress, i bet, tyin’ her up and makin’ her it’s bitch. oh, josh!”

he falls into josh’s neck, sobbing, but josh can feel his smile pressed into his skin. he looks at the receptionist, supposedly named lynn, with such a broken aura it must strike her like a hammer. “he needs to see her,” he strangles out, sounding surprisingly lucid based on how he feels. “please?”

she hesitates, obviously churning things over in her mind; eventually, she sighs, glancing over to the hallway to make sure nobody is witness. when she’s sure, she makes a brushing motion with her hands. “go,” she mumbles, looking back faintly at them. “i’ll file paperwork.”

the words are barely out of her mouth before the two take off, sprinting over their own feet to tear down the sidewalk, hands firmly locked together as the wheel around the corner. tyler begins to hoot and holler, a widespread grin cracking his face as he staggers around to face josh. they stand next to a stop sign just outside the building, tyler’s hands brushing josh’s hair back as josh runs his fingers over tyler’s face, just as he did when they first met. the crisp, cold wind of december blows against their cheeks and hands.

“i love you s’much, josh,” tyler mumbles, awestruck, every pore and mark of his face seeming to illuminate his beauty, in josh’s eyes. tyler leans over him to press his mouth to his forehead, giggling past his words. “s’much. my prince charming, saving me from th’ dragons. or my thief, stealing me away in broad daylight? either way, i love ya. i love ya. i love ya. let’s run away, let’s start fires. i love you.”

josh smiles, his own lips tearing at his joy, but it’s laced with something deeper as he steps back to look tyler in the eyes. “i know,” he breathes, tapping a finger against tyler’s lips once, then wrapping softly around his neck in a choking motion. “i know. it’s okay.”

features falling, josh sees the fear build in those pretty doll eyes set in tyler’s face. “i wanted to tell you,” he starts, stuttering over his embarrassed words, “but it’s so bad of me, josh. m’a bad person. i hurt her, i hurt m’mama, and i yell at myself s’ much for it. i hurt myself for it. you don’t deserve that evil in y’life, jj, but y’told me best y’could about what you did, so i wanted t’return that sweetness. y’sweetness. please don’t hate me f’ever. i’d hope y’wouldn’t, because y’just saved me, but—”

for once, tyler shuts up as josh presses their mouths together. 

it’s messy, and wet, and, objectively, pretty bad; but they are virgins in the other’s beauty, and it’s the greatest experience they’ve ever had. their teeth clack together, spit dribbles from the corners of their lips, their hands drag against the back of their necks; josh strains upwards, practically tipping over he’s pressed so tightly to tyler. lanky arms envelop his soft waist as tyler’s legs get tangled up in his, a giant smile giving way to his pursed and clumsy kiss. 

they begin to tumble to the side, and they both begin to laugh as they tug apart and stumble back into standing. josh throws his arms over tyler’s neck, singing, “pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty,” as he throws kisses all over tyler’s pink face. 

“y’not so bad yourself,” tyler whispers happily, and they hold hands tight as they walk off to the bus station down the street. 

♥︎

josh knows they can’t stay away forever. they’ve been seen leaving, they bought bus tickets, and their absence from both home and hospital are sure to be noticed. he doesn’t care. hearing tyler’s past, what dark little of it he did, filled josh with a heavy sense of urgency; not another second could he spend away from tyler, whether physically or in a denial. he knows he loves tyler. tyler knows he loves him. they both just have to push a little to get the other to show it. 

they make love in the back of jordan’s car. he’d parked it a block off from his work, so josh could lead tyler to it easily enough; they fall inside even easier. underneath tyler, where sharp elbows and shaky fingers press and touch everywhere, josh feels nothing but overstimulation and adoration. tyler stops every few seconds, even when they’ve only begun to kiss, asking “you okay, joshie? you alright? we can stop if y’like. heck, maybe i’d like. m’really nervous. let me just—okay, m’breathing, m’breathing. are you breathin’? good. that’s good.”

nothing’s rushed. they take their time, tyler peeling back josh’s sweaty shirt to kiss and nuzzle into his soft skin. scars cover the expanse of thigh he can see from josh’s wiggling out of his jeans, and more lace his stomach and arms, but tyler shows they’re quite a pair once his shirt comes off and their chests are smushed together. his ribs are still visible, bones jutting every which way, but extra flesh hangs and squishes and sags and josh could just cry of joy. he touches everywhere he can reach, only stopping when he needs to shake out his nerves or tug on tyler’s hair to egg him on. 

they just grind. josh can’t even describe the feeling of tyler on him, tongue in his mouth, hips jutting against one another and the things in between creating a sweet friction. his eyes are shut so tight, breathing erratic and hands quivering, but he shoves his face into tyler’s hot neck and clutches his t-shirt with all the passion within him. tyler is babbling softly, his own eyes flicking open and closed as he leaves messy kisses on josh’s scalp. he keeps mumbling, “look at me, jj, look at me. please? please? let me see. can i? see with me.”

so josh opens his eyes, head tilted back, and he watches tyler’s spindly fingers touch him under his boxers. it’s almost too much, but he peeks back up at tyler and keeps his gaze as he cries and pants in high-pitched tones. the tears are good, and the breathing is wonderful, and he can only whine, “love you, i love you, tyler, tyler, i love you,” hips nuzzling into tyler’s grasp as he thrusts up against tyler’s own heat. everything is warm. 

and when josh cums, everything stops. the hot, the nervousness, all the touch and smell and senses overcoming him; there is only sight, tyler’s sweet eyes heavy in ecstasy as josh trembles and makes noises he didn’t even know lay inside him. the feeling is like a flower blooming between his thighs, and josh lets himself become swept away as tyler’s own stickiness melts into his. he melts into tyler, who’s whimpering and shaking just as wildly. they’re inside and made up of each other’s messes.

they lie there for a very long time. tyler doesn’t speak, but josh does. he doesn’t really register what he’s even saying, but his sloppy, scattered words make little sense to anyone but tyler. that’s alright. tyler understands perfectly, his head on josh’s chest and his damp fingers encased in josh’s. all the words are mismatched and mispronounced, garbled and mumbled, but tyler knows. he always has. 

after they clean up, they walk together outside. the cold huddles them even closer than before, jordan’s sweatshirt hanging loosely from tyler’s scrawny frame as he hangs his arms from josh’s shoulders. they walk like one being, tyler whispering his observations of nature around them, the cars speeding by, the way the sun bursts through the clouds and shines on josh’s face. they crunch the snow under their shoes, delighted at the sound. they kiss between tyler’s disproportionate, sideways words. 

and, when they find themselves in front of josh’s house, they wait on the porch until the police come. they never stop kissing.


	10. the one at the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> josh knows he will never be neurotypical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehe

josh snorts, a quick, muted sound leaving his flayed nose, and he scoffs, “that’s not how it happened.”

giggling along, tyler drapes his arms around josh’s waist, nuzzling his nose with a mischievous smile, one that only grows as josh playfully shoves him away. it’s light and gentle, purposefully so. “m’pretty sure that’s exactly how it went, j,” he refutes, leaning against the smooth tile of the kitchen counter and turning his head to call into the adjacent room. “right? i’d never lie. m’not a liar.”

a head pops into the doorframe, and josh’s quiet laughter grows in velocity at the sight of the man who wears sunglasses indoors. “both of you are wrong,” brendon smirks, an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. josh doesn’t like it when he smokes inside, so he merely nurses them in his mouth until he can step out. “i was there, and i know for a fact i totally hooked you two up.”

“oh, f’course,” tyler agrees, sarcasm dripping from his words as he glances over to josh. “our own natural matchmaker, brendon urie. how could i ever f’get? 

brendon shrugs in a _beyond me_ gesture, and josh just keeps on snickering as he snuggles into tyler’s chest and wraps his arms around tyler’s own. 

moving away from his family was one of the hardest decisions josh’s ever had to make, but tyler was the best decision that just happened to go along. after their brief escape and adventure in the colombian snow, both had been escorted back to hospital; tyler to finish his stay, josh to allot more time to his. it wasn’t as bad as either thought, as tyler was, eventually, given medication that worked, and josh managed to work even harder with his speech therapy to have an excuse to be released early. 

he waited the three months tyler stayed still in his mother’s house. he knew nobody really trusted him anymore, but abby, as always, made it bearable enough. she had a hard time with his improvement, not used to josh being able to speak, even in the little increments he does, or handle himself easier; but she adjusted, just as she always had, and they stayed close throughout the winter. 

once tyler was released, with mountains of paper filled out and prescriptions signed, josh finally met his mother. kelly joseph is quiet, contrast to her son. she seemed embarrassed at tyler’s babblings, even when they were surprisingly positive as he filled her in on his stay. his sister was still hospitalized, and his other siblings at home, but that was alright; tyler had no desire to see any, especially not the one he injured. he knows what happened, fully and entirely, and, although he still has moments in the night where he sits up and begins to scream “i didn’t mean to!” he’s beginning to come to terms with it. 

they both got simple jobs, josh at a music store and tyler at the local gym. the cash was slow, but it built up and grew until they rented a van and decided to leave, for good. los angeles was never on tyler’s bucket list to see, but he’d go anywhere if josh said it was a good idea. the trip was long and required lots of stops for fuel and to kiss, as making out on the freeway seemed frowned upon, but everything went alright and they found themselves housed up in a small apartment in downtown venice. 

brendon came to visit every few weeks. he’d gotten out a little after tyler, merely because his anger issues seemed to hang onto him much longer than any other symptom. he’s told them he’s crashing at a friends, but they all know the soft-spoken, small man he stays with is much more than that. they almost can pretend everything’s normal, that they’re all friends with inside jokes and an average life. 

they know they’ll never feel normal. even as tyler holds josh in his arms now, giggling with their friend in the living room, they both are still aware of who they are. josh still breaks down and calls mark, begging for forgiveness and lashing out at himself in the form of sharp objects. tyler locks himself in the bathroom or closet on occasion, insisting he’s a demon who deserved what happened to him, who reacted poorly, who needed to be taken away. sometimes, they’ll make love like it’s the last opportunity they’ll have, scratching and screaming and crying into one another’s mouths. 

but, sometimes, they’ll sit on the couch and watch movies that one hasn’t seen and the other adores. tyler quotes terminator 2 almost to the tee, josh merely confused and asking which robot is the bad guy and which is the one saving the day. sometimes, a cd will play from their beaten-up stereo, and josh will show tyler how to slow dance as well as dance horribly to songs probably only played in raunchy clubs. sometimes, they’ll cook dinner together, or play a video game neither know the rules of, or compare clothes at the thrift, or just kiss and kiss and kiss until they forget what they were doing and simply kiss some more. 

josh knows he will never be neurotypical. his autism is not a switch he can turn on and off whenever he chooses, and that his violent impulses are things he has to learn to control daily. tyler knows bipolar disorder alters how he feels at the worst of times, that the aftertaste of bulimia will stay with him, and that his childhood sexual abuse matters, even if another child hurt him. even if it was his own sister. they both know that they will feel wrongly guilty, wrongly betrayed, wrongly upset; but they also know the other understands, and believes, and trusts. 

and, as brendon sits there, nibbling on his paper, and josh laughs at his bad impressions while tyler plays with his hair, mumbling nonsense under his breath, they know that they are good people. they deserve the other’s love. they are worthy of this safe life.

and that is all they could ever ask for. 

even josh would tell you that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end ♡


End file.
